Under the Assumption

I'll tell you guys cause you won't tell anybody.

Right?

Right. 

...The hat was under me. 

I was just trying to fucking sleep. 

And I assumed that the hat wasn't under me. 

I'm just kind of the family scapegoat.

Since Brian bested that Nirvana phase of his. 

But, when he exclaimed that the hat was 'probably under Paul,'

I just continued to pretend I was asleep. 

Like any decent rooster would've been. 

It was 5 a.m..

After much cursing and turned seat cushions, they gave up and drove off with Brian. 

In a huff. 

To fly him off to the place where everyone is in a huff.

Every day.

I draped my arm further into the couch, as I do. 

That's what I love about the pull-outs. 

They go on forever. 

Anyway. 

The hat was there. 

I felt the velcro of it first, and said, 'Aww fuck,'

To the empty room. 

Then I stared at it for a few seconds. 

Then I went back to bed (couch). 

But I couldn't sleep.

Becuase the hat had been under me. 

And even though we checked under me. 

It would still be my fault somehow, don't you see?

So, I jammed the hat under the other couch. 

They've since found it there, and they're going to send it to Brian. 

Expresspost. 

Because Brian can turn communists, he's so scary when he's mad. 

I've been dying to tell somebody. 

Now you miscreants know. 

If mom ever mentions it to you, change the subject. 

Try talking about jam. 
She likes jam.